You ain't seen nothing yet
by The Tainted Sorrow
Summary: You'll say, that there is no problems to get an intership аt the police if your uncle works here. Аnd what if it's Gotham police department — one of the most dangerous cities in the USA, where runaway psychos run around the streets? And who knows, that occasionally met a stunningly charming guy can be one of them.
1. Family meeting

_— Can you torment somebody else?_ _— No, I've chosen you._

Pushing through the crowd, I tried to find my uncle. I don't think, that he has cnanged a lot in two years. Although, happens anything. People here, of course, gathered just a bunch. Can't believe, all of them gathered here to see as the police commissioner resigns. I'll bet hundred that at least half of them attended the banquet in honor of his appointment with approximately the same persons.

When I approached the building, I managed to knock over a glass of coffee at some poor fellow in an expensive suit, and then I also had a lot of time to explain to the guards standing at the entrance that I was a serious detective's niece and if they didn't pass me, then he all to hell to dismiss. It did not work right away, but they passed me. I doubt, that he has that opportunities.

Actually all planned like a family meeting, but I mixed up the tickets and said the wrong date. When I came to my senses, I decide not to change anything.

I've noticed among the crowd familiar face and just could not resist not to notify everyone about it:

— Uncle Jim!

Аt least ten people from crowd turned back to my side. One of them was man, chattering before with a lovely brunette in black dress. For a split second on his face several expressions changed at once. At first — complete bewilderment, then — happiness. Actually, my uncle wasn't ecpecially emotional, that means: "he desn't jump with squeals, showering kittens and rainbow around". But it was enough for me that he just smiled to hang on his neck.

— What are you doing here? You should arrive only tomorrow, — he wondered when I stopped my embraces filled with love and choking techniques.

— Surprise! — I just responded, throwing up my hands.

— I can't believe, that you become so...

Then I interrupted in the most cheeky way his session of tirades and examining me, for the waiter sailed past with a tray of sweet and incredibly fragrant pastries. Then I remenber, that all my food today was limited to breakfast on the plane and a hot dog on the way here.

— Oh, eclairs!

— ... Аdult, — he spoke with some doubt in his voice.

— Warning all your questions: flew normally, stopped at Mr. Hattings on the corner of the 46th.

All this time woman, with he spoken before stay behind us and look for our family reunion with slight smile. But now she coughed lightly, well, just very clearly recalling her presence.

— Right, Lee, this is Kim, my niece. She will be trained at our site. Kim is Leslie Tompkins, she is a pathologist and... well...

— Your girlfriend? — I said with delight. Вrunette just smiled. She's cute. We should chat.

For as long as I can remember, my uncle was never left without female attention, which actually filled my entire childhood with various curious cases. True, he then moved to Gotham, and I somehow lost touch with him. Shortly before it he started meet with some Barbara, but I've never seen her.

— Wait, what about this... Barbara? — interested I, stuffing the rest of eclairs.

— We are no longer together, — after they both made that fases that I understand — I would not ask more. Fortunattely, from awkward silence we were saved by movement somewhere next to stage. There were some people from which I know only comissаr Еssen — my future boss. God, I hope she will not a strict lady.

All guests started took their places. My uncle was warried about me, apparently wondering that I would not find a place for myself and would be standing like an idiot in the aisle, but I made a hand sign, making it clear that everything was super.

Then pushing between people through a row from him and his girlfriend.

— Sorry, you will not move? Do not worry, I eat a lot, but in fact very thin. Yes thank you.

Without waiting for an answer, I squeezed in between some dark-skinned man and a blonde. I hope, they are not together. It can be akward. Fortunattely, they didn't make a fuss, but just alternately drilled a hole in me with their angry and extremely indignant views and calmed down. Sit strait at the junction of chairs wasn't comfortable, when a solid-looking man stood up at the rostrum, presented as Theo Galavan, I was already in pain. I already seriously regretted that I did not stay at home to meet with my uncle tomorrow. And what the hell did I suffer here? We had to do as the mayor and just did not come.

— "He knows how to sink into the soul. Gotham has ... special magic. " — mr. Galavans words did not reach me immediately because I wrote SMS to my friend. And, by the way, I did not forget to mention about the lack of normal seats.

However, there was something strange in this words. Despite the fact that I was in Gotham for the first time in general, I also felt something...different. No matter how clumsy it sounded, but it seemed that it was you dont that person, who decides your fate, it is someone else.Meets you with right people. I didn't feel it in Vashington.

When the touching and tearful speech was finally over, I hurried to get up. I also heard, how this blond said ti this man: "Lout. Who has passed her?". I hurried to retire in case she burst with arrogance. Almost immediately i found uncle in the crowd.

— What time do I need to be at work?

— I'll pick you up.

— Great. More and shuttle to work. I like this city.

I suddenly thought seriously. Did I do right that I decided to practice it here? Gotham in any way one of the most dirty and dangerous cities on the map of the USA. Still, it was easier to find a practice before the institute here (especially when your uncle was a detective and on a good account) than to run around Washington and ask if they need lawyers.

By the way, he didn't share my joy, and in general he looked somehow terribly tense, and when I tried to ask how long he had slept the last time, he just changed the subject.

\- All these official roller coaster is a little exhausting. So much has fallen, — he breathed. Leslie touched his shoulder encouragingly and smiled warmly. God, they are so cute.

— Come on. You haven't killed man yet, — I answered jokingly, but I immediately regretted it. From my words uncle frowned even more. — Sorry.

My apologies were interrupted by the commissar's voice:

— Jim, we have state of emergency.

Incidentally, she also did not look like a person who was present at the banquet with a pyramid of champagne.

— Six prisoners escaped from Arkham. Including Barbara Keane, — it seemed to me that she specifically focused attention on this.

Wait. Stop.

Arkham, this is kind of a nuthouse. Tell me that this is not the Barbara. Please.

— Ih my God, — a genuine fear flashed on Leslie's face for a second.

The evening of family meetings was hopelessly flawed. I tried to ask at least something, but all I received from my uncle was: "Go home. Now. I'll call you". Yes, great. Who was there carrying this nonsense about the "magic of the city"? As soon as I got to Gotham, and then the psychos were walking around. I am delighted, honestly.

I remained standing in the middle of the hall, where a faint shadow of panic had already passed, until finally Dr. Tompkins touched my shoulder:

\- Come on, I'll take you home.


	2. Maniax

Mister Hattings is strange man. He was my mothers' friend in childhood, so when I decided move to Gotham, problem with flat was solved. It remains only to agree to wipe the dust with his collections of glass owls, not to touch the rare editions of Ninja Turtle CDs and comics and once every two weeks feed his black-red tarantula, the size of a small plate. Which, by the way, was called MJ. This is short for Michael Jackson. This teddy monster had a strange habit of moving backwards like a cancer, and Mr. Hattings for some reason decided that it looked like a moonwalker.

Anyway, how did I say — very strange. And this was not explained. He divorced his wife a long time ago, but he regularly visited his daughters in California.

So, having spent the owner of the flat in the morning and promised, that me and MJ will be friends, I've closed the door and began to gather. Considering that my uncle was supposed to arrive somewhere around ten past eight, I had about half an hour left. My favorite "Oh, I have lot of time!" now made me turn around and, pulling off a heavy dressing gown, went to the kitchen for tea. Mr. Hattings's apartment turned out to be small but with sparkling individuality. In addition, I was delighted with the brick wall in the kitchen, painted in a peach color. In addition to the kitchen, there was also a living room, which I had already successfully turned into my fortress, starting with the fact that I had stopped folding the sofa on which I was sleeping.

Because of the modest layout, I perfectly heard what was said on television in another room. And when a news release was broadcast, I immediately jumped up and, almost knocking over untouched tea, rushed there.

"The six prisoners who left Arkham yesterday are still free. About the events that took place a couple of minutes ago near the Gotham newspaper building - our special correspondent - Elizabeth Jones"

The picture switched to the face of some blonde. Behind her, people fussed: policemen and doctors. Yellow bounding tape fluttering in the wind. What happened there? I noticed that almost did not blink. Everything around has become tense.

"A few minutes ago, seven workers were dropped by unknown persons from the roof of the Gotham newspaper building. The following shots may shock." — the camera rather closely showed the first frame, where a man is flying from the roof, followed by seven corpses in straitjackets, on which red letters were folded into the word: "Maniax", and at the end an exclamation mark, apparently, for more emphasis.

What idiot came up with it? Guys, to be called "maniax" is not original. Almost as sadly as the "Sinister Six." It somehow opens all your cards. Although the spectacle of seven people, under whose bodies blood had already begun to gather on the asphalt, was indeed terrible.

"Presumably, this atrocity was committed by escaped dangerous criminals, among whom was Robert Greenwood — who killed and then dismembered ten women. And…"

A picture of a really frightening man appeared on the screen, with a wasp nest on his head and such a wild look that I felt bad. It is clear why uncle insisted yesterday so that I would return home. But I can't sit here all the time. At that moment, a telephone rang somewhere under the pillows. And it seemed to me that it was incredibly deafening, because I jumped in surprise and immediately rushed to look for him. Photos continued to appear, but I did not see them, because I was looking for a mobile phone.

"Aaron Helsinger, Barbara Keane, Jerome Valeska "- continued to list on TV, at the same time showing the track record of these pretties. The phone shut up for a couple of seconds before I fished it out of the graveyard of quilts and padding polyester.As soon as I unlocked my phone, I immediately received an SMS.

"I'm sorry, I can't take you."

Well, I understood that. He probably is somewhere out there now, trying to figure everything out and punish the bad guys. Such an irrepressible feeling of pride suddenly filled me.

"I saw the news. Nothing, I just going to visit a new cafe at an angle along the way. Good luck with catching any assholes xxx."

"Be careful"

"You too"

Here it is - a family atmosphere. When you wish your uncle to catch all the crazies. I glanced at my watch, realizing that by that time I should have already been dressed, and not paced around the house in a t-shirt and underwear. When I returned to the TV again, the news had already switched to something less disturbing, and I turned it off. Just before going out, I even ventured to get closer to the MJ terrarium and, making a playful-disgruntled face, turned the camera on us and took a picture. For some reason, the spider shrank and only occasionally moved its paws, as if making it clear that it did not die.

As a caring nephew, I bought two coffees, and then another chocolate. I've drunk my own on the way. If everything is at least half as serious as it is shown on TV, then it probably will not interfere with something that supports the brain and soul. And what could be better than coffee brought by someone else, for which you did not have to stand at eight in the queue?

True, to my disappointment, there was no uncle in the precinct. I was even upset because I was late because of all this. Anyway, it was somehow unpleasant for me to be in the area where I knew only ... no one. Some of the officers looked up, not missing a chance to measure me with a rating glance, as if deciding whether I would fit in. But most were busy with their own business.

I took out a chocolate bar and found a place for it on the table so that it stood leaning on the monitor. Then I pulled off one sticker, quickly wrote on it "Now there is someone to monitor the optimal balance of chocolate in your body :)" and pasted it on the monitor, drawing the arrow down. Interestingly, does Dr. Tompkins monitor the necessary dose of chocolate for my uncle? We definitely need to talk.

It was just when I got up, as I immediately received the personal attention of commissioner Essen, stepping toward me.

— You were late the first day, — she said mildly, but rather strictly.

— Sorry, I tried to snatch victory in the queue in an unequal fight for coffee, — I smilled — Do you want coffee? Black like my soul.

Lord, what are you talking about ?! It didn't seem to the commissioner to be witty at all, she only raised an eyebrow and portrayed a stunning poker-face, if in the literal sense, then know that she is on the verge of disappointment in me. I hurried to fix it.

— Kidding, I haven't got a soul. Kidding, — my humor did not find the proper response. Damn, I was hoping for applause.

— Thank you, I will refuse - politely, but somehow she responded coldly and handed me a folder, — You must know Mr. Galawan. He had some problems with documents on the chairmanship of the Chamber of Commerce.

— I will conduct his case? — I replied with sincere joy, rounded eyes.

— You just need to take these papers to him.

My ego, recently jumping with delight, has now collapsed and burst into angry tirades. Well, apparently it looked like I ate a lemon. With pepper. Chile.

— But I'm interning as a lawyer, not as a courier.

— Right. And the key word here is "you are interning," — the commissioner answered, and throwing an eloquent look in my direction, she went back to her office, — There is an office address. And do not linger.

I was frankly offended. I have already managed to dream that from the first day I will be entrusted with something important. It is very difficult to descend from heaven to earth. I even looked at the chocolate with a desperate look, wondering if I should eat it myself. I can say to the uncle that mourned the collapse of hope.

— Want some advice?

From an unexpected voice behind me, I sharply turned around and met my eyes with unfamiliar brown eyes. The guy on the other side of the table smiled.

— Don't argue with her. In general, it's better not to argue with anyone now. In light of recent events, everything is on the nerves.

— And I thought, that psichopaths escape prisons regularly in a few months and it's normal, — I tried to laugh it off in order to drive away bad thoughts and not to think that all this commotion arranged by "Maniacs" is really a terrible thing.

But the guy turned out to be much more lenient than my boss and laughed shortly. And then he stretched his hand across the table. I realized that I still had coffee in one and folder in another. Deciding how to free my hands, I put down the folder before responding to the handshake.

— I'm Stuart. From the ballistics department.

— Cool. Name like a mouse from the movie. Would you like some coffee?

He laughed, apparently, at first deciding that I said "cool" about his position. And then, gratefully nodding, he took from my hands a long-suffering glass with already cooled coffee.

— And you must be Kim Gordon?

— Evans, — I corrected, — Gordon is my mother's maiden name.

And then, as if to confirm that I was not lying about the last name, there was a commissioner Essens voice. God, why am I not an ostrich and cannot stupidly stick my head in concrete?

— Мs. Evans, you still here?

I pulled my head into my shoulders, turned to a new acquaintance, and suddenly noticed that apart from a funny name, there was nothing special about him. Short stature, ordinary blond hair, ordinary eyes. Probably, I met this on the street, then in a second I would not even have remembered him. But in fact, he still managed to be cute.

— I would love to talk more, Mr. Stuart Little, but it's time to run and make this world a little brighter with my emerging, — I playfully winked at the guy and hurried to the exit.

Okay, maybe the courier is not that bad? I'll make the right acquaintances, who knows.

Holy naivety.


	3. The city of contrasts

In the hall of the building people were bustling. All the walls were absolutely glass, but nothing like "a room flooded with light" was not observed, because the weather in Gotham behaved just mockingly. There was no rain, but it became overcast and somehow sad, as if the sky had descended a few tens of meters down.

I decided to try out the Gotham subway and went to the station with a very loud and obvious name "Wayne Interpraises". It is obvious that you immediately come across the tower of the Wayne family. All my knowledge about this was limited only by the fact that the owner of the company is a billionaire. Going to the Galavans office from the Waynes company was very close. In general, a good job (if you omit the story of psychos). And you are engaged in affairs, and you look around the city.

I managed to count three elevators and four staircases, while sticking out at the administration desk at the entrance, waiting for at least someone. A slender brunette in a strict trouser suit said that she "for a moment" and ran away. Do you know what I understood? Pantsuit is very sexy. Seriously. I should also start wearing costumes.

Frankly bored, I put my head on my hand and showed a different box the size of a small cup, which stood as a table mediator. This piece of something insanely bright, did not fit into the absolutely minimalistic design of the table. I wonder what could be inside? A gift from a boyfriend? Women's stuff? Food? I definitely liked the latter the most.

— Do you miss?

The owner of the voice so unexpectedly came up from the back and stood beside the table, leaning on the rack, that I almost jumped on the spot.

— Oh, I beg your pardon, — for some reason he does not feel sorry at all, and the stranger answered quite funny.

It turned out to be a guy, probably not older than me. I run to glance around, trying to keep it from looking as if I love him. Although there was generally to stare at. He was tall, certainly taller than me, and probably would have been taller than his uncle (I don't know why I remembered him now) and pretty, so I also saw red hair under a trilby hat. I am one of those people who are convinced that ginger people are not only shameless, but also something like the suns of our world. Especially if their face is in addition and in freckles. So, in short, I just froze, forgetting that looking at people is indecent.

— Looking for someone?

— Uh... Yeah — I finally woke up and quickly looked away, looking in the crowd for the girl in a pantsuit, — Actually, yes. I need Mr. Theo Galavan. Тhe secretary shamelessly left me in the dark about the possibility of visiting.

— What a coincidence! — with theatrical surprise, the guy declared, clapping his palm on the tabletop, — Аnd I also need.

I suddenly noticed that all the short time of our conversation, he behaves as if we are on stage and after each of his words we should applaud him. He leaned closer, lowering his voice, as if we were discussing the mystery of a galactic scale.

— I think we can help each other, — the guy straightened, pulling his jacket over a plaid shirt, — Jamie, at your service.

He nodded to me, as if he was about to bow out now, but decided not to go up to that level of posturing. Honestly, I generally fell somewhere into oblivion. Well, I must admit that my new acquaintance turned out to be damn charming, and I just instantly became a victim of this charm.

— Kim, — I said shortly, just still trying to figure out how to behave.

— So, Kim, — he pointed with his hand to the elevator, — Ladies first.

I slipped into the elevator first. At that moment, when the glass doors of the elevator closed, suddenly there was a scream. I abruptly turned around and saw how the secretary in a fright shied away from the table. From that box on her desk stuck the ugly head of a clown, swinging on a spring. The guy laughed shortly and for some reason I felt uncomfortable. Maybe he was an incredible handsome boy, but his laugh turned out to be just awful. But earlier than I had time to think about the option "not to go anywhere with this strange, but, charismatic boy", the elevator car started off and went up.

As we flew through the floors one by one, a simple thought came to my head suddenly. Today I managed to get acquainted with the two inhabitants of this city and such a clear difference between them suddenly struck my eyes. Regular appearance in contrast to the ginger hair of my new friend. Nice, soft look as opposed to impudent and some damnable attractive.

Yeah, Gotham is a city of contrasts.

From the thoughts of this, only Jamie's voice could pull me out.

— These guys seem to be serious about making themselves stand out. Just think and scarу to go out, — He didn't speak at all as a person who is seriously afraid of this, but as if all this was some sort of a planned production - not at all scary and not real.

I looked up and realized that he was talking about a recurring news release that was broadcast on a small screen in an elevator. There again showed an inscription on the bodies.

— When it is shown on TV it don't seems really. Yes, it happens, but you always thinks that it can't happen to you. With everyone, but not with you, — I honestly voiced thoughts about this. — And in general, I am one of those bores who believe that almost everyone whom society has called the "bastard" was once a favorite kid for his mother. I don't justify them, it just annoys me that people put a stigma, not knowing a person.

— Is killing an inadequate characterization? — he smiled, because it was said as if he himself didn't believe in what he was saying.

— Well, — I nodded, — But we don't know what was inside of the same Miss Keen when she did what caused her to enter Arkham. Why did she actually do it? I agree, there are real moral monsters, but there are just those who are confused.

As soon as I said this, I immediately felt awkward. Few people understand this, because they believe that you are shouting: "No, let them out of mental hospitals and prisons. Let them continue to kill and rape, all everything is okay." It's just that for society you are always too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too gay or too crazy. And I said that we know nothing for sure. The human brain is such a complicated thing. Hitler was a vegetarian at all. Not only that, he used to close his eyes to the film during animal abuse scenes. But this didn't prevent him from making history as one of the most cruel rulers.

The elevator doors finally opened on the right floor, and I looked up from my reasoning, returning to reality. From the elevator went a long corridor in different directions. A double door was visible a little distance away. Apparently, this is the office of Mr. Galavan.

— Thanks for helping. Otherwise, if I had waited even a little bit there, there would have been a murder, — In a joke, I blurted out to dispel the deathly silence in the corridor.

— Glad to help such a beauty.

What? I'm sorry, WHAT? If he now does not cease to be so charming, I just spread out here in a puddle. Lord, when did I get to this? I had already turned to leave, but then Mr. Hattings's spirit seemed to infused at me, and for some reason I turned and said loudly enough:

— Jamie.

He did not even have time to budge. I walked back again.

— I was thinking here...well, I've only been in Gotham for two days and I don't know anything here at all. Maybe if you're not busy on the weekend, help me?

— I have a very busy schedule, — the guy stretched out and, well, he squinted very slyly, and I had a feeling that he was trying to deceive me. Why did I start this? — But, I think, I will find time for a small sightseeing tour.

— Fine, — but I nevertheless, with perseverance worthy of admiration, took a notebook with a pen out of my bag and quickly wrote my phone. — Here. If plans are not formed, then you can call me.

Damn it. Did I just leave him my number? Stunned. Well, okay, but I didn't call him on a date, after all! I just need to get to know the city better - that's all. I did not even try to ask my uncle, for obvious reasons, of his constant employment. Although it might be worth asking for Stuart? At least he does not instill in me such a stoic feeling of some fear with all these smiles and laughter. But Jamie is handsome and ginger.

I, fortunately, very quickly got the papers to Galavan's personal assistant and with calm soul went back to the station. Only on the ground floor the mobile phone rang. It was Commissioner Essen. I had a question: where did she get my number from? I didn't call her for a walk around the city.

On the other hand, it's good that she called right now while I was not on the subway. Because it formed a very important thing, which I had to do. And it consisted in going to the other end of the city and taking some samples for the laboratory. Damn it. How many time will it take? Anyway, this is a great idea - to send a person who is in a city without a year a week by courier and knows only how to get from home to work.

I put my high hopes on the GPS and, following my little guidebook, set off the devil knows where. Even now, when logically, it is too late to go to work, and it's still too early to go home, the subway was worse than in Washington. At least it was good that Gotham decided to show off and break the system, making the subway overhead. So all the time of the trip, I looked at the city.

And yet, there was something mysterious here. Especially in this kind of weather. The whole city was stuck with skyscrapers.Out of boredom, I began counting gargoyles on buildings and, you know, I counted 15 pieces. As for me, these terrible, but at the same time mysterious monsters perfectly fit the atmosphere of Gotham.

At the exit of the subway I was waiting for another surprise. Well, not the day, but just a gift! The battery and so lived on the last legs, and after the active use of the navigator, completely died. So I had to look for a large brick building, as I described it myself. And whatever they say, the people in Gotham are not such insensitive bastards. I asked the road three times and all three times I was successfully told where to go.

The samples were sealed in some small box, but it was just unrealistically heavy. I wonder what samples are stored there? Titanium alloys? Nevertheless, I, as an exemplary worker, still dragged them to the office.

I don't know if they happen so that they don't bother at least a second. It seemed to me that all this bustle only intensified. I thumped the box at the first table and tried to find among the whole crowd commissioner Essen who were distracted by the work, in order to report on the work done. But I could not see a single familiar face.

And I would have stood like that for how long, if suddenly my uncle's voice was heard. I immediately felt that I had time to miss the whole day and I was clearly glad that he was at the office, and not again somewhere at the crime scene.

— Kim!

Instead of happy hugs he ran at me with questions. His hands clenched my forearms, and he looked at me so worriedly that I was even scared for myself.

— Is everything okay? I've called you more than twenty times!

— Uh...just the battery sat down. And what happens at all? - Falling into final bewilderment, I squinted.

Uncle finally opened his hands and somehow exhaustedly ran his hand over his face, exhaling. Was it a sigh of relief I did not understand. He paused, and then quietly said:

— The attack in the building of Galavans offise.

Probably, I could only vaguely imagine what it was, find out about what had happened, knowing that the person close to you is there now and not be able to clarify that he is in order. My heart beat fast. I could have been there. I had to clench my fists so as not to show that my hands trembled.

— "Maniacs"?

My uncle nodded, but I suddenly felt so bad that I could not help him. He looked even worse than yesterday. And no matter how much he tried to deny and hide it, it was still evident how exhausted and tired he was. Although...perhaps something I can do.

— We don't know who leads them. We don't know who pulled them out. Day of work and nothing to brag about.

— You can't work so much, — I rebelled.

— You're just like your mom.

— So, we need to brainstorm — I began to actively massage the temples, frantically wondering how I could fix the situation. — I have an idea!

— Bachelorette party and pigtails? — Uncle chuckled, but somehow not particularly approving.

— Nearly. Mexican food and wrestling on TV in the evening. What do you think? Take Dr. Tompkins with you.

He looked at me for a long time, not knowing whether to approve my idea. Well, I tried as best I could, making a pretty face. In the end, I still won. Uncle waved his hand.

— Okay, maybe you're right.

I smiled and immediately hugged him. Apparently, it was a bit unexpected, but he still did the same. And it was the best feeling for the whole day.

— You know, — he suddenly said, — You can just call her Leslie.

Or rather, "Aunt Leslie," — I grinned, putting my nose to his shoulder and feeling the same cologne as two years ago.


	4. Surprises

The fourth taco was clearly redundant. In the morning such heartburn began, as if a small hell opened inside me. And where is it not poetic to the extent that I want to die. Throwing the third pill for heartburn into my mouth — the same black one as my mood — I began to drink it all.

In the morning I was sent to some Mr. Nigma, whom I saw for the first time just today, when everyone gathered in the center of the station, listening to an exciting speech from the commissioner.

— You yourself know what we are facing, — she recited while I quietly squeezed into someone's chair and threw my genuinely suffering body at him. — Two days ago, six mentally ill criminals were pulled out of Arkham. Yesterday, four of them entered the shipyard "Еllen" and kidnapped seven workers.

Despite the horrific eruption of a volcano in my stomach, my head still worked well. At least, until all these numbers began to pour on it. Six, four, two, seven — be damned arithmetic. It turns out that everything is not so bad, as my uncle said — there is something to boast about. They learned about the shipyard and about the fact that two of the criminals had disappeared somewhere and in the scene "think up the most stupid name for your team and get a prize" did not participate. By the way, the uncle himself stood next to the commissioner and, as for me, no longer looked so tortured. Rather...terribly professional. However, as always.

— At the moment we don't know who organized this escape. Jim Gordon will be in charge.

He nodded and, with a very serious air, declared: "These are our goals." And then walked to the projector. Now there will be a movie. I brought the mug to my lips and was about to take a sip of water. It was only at this moment that the uncle clicked the magic button on the projector and the image of the first of the criminals appeared on the white screen. All that was in my mouth was not slow to leave its ranges, and in addition I choked and began to cough. All this made such a noise that only the lazy-blind-deaf-and-dumb did not turn in my direction.

Damn.

Damn!

On the screen was a photo of a guy. That damn it guy, who I met yesterday!

DAMN!

— Jerome Valeska, eighteen years old, — nevertheless continued uncle, after a long look in my direction. — Matricide.

Jerome. His name is Jerome, not Jamie. And he killed his mother. OH MY GOD. How can I keep calm now? How can I work on? How can I live with this?! But I also left my phone number to him!

It's time for me to flee to Argentina, change the telephone, and at the same time gender, race, religion, orientation, and become a vegetarian nun in a Protestant church.

— Arnold Dopkins — schizophrenic, maniac-poisoner, rapist, — he continued.

While everyone was safely back to the goals of the hunting season, I tried to recover. I heard the news talked about this yesterday. And was it really so difficult to guess that something was wrong with him? Only laughter could draw the right conclusions. These guys can't be adequate. Because not a single really cute and amazingly charming guy would live to be eighteen without going crazy.

To hell with water, I need coffee. Doubble, triple. I can just nibble the grain. While I was trying to cope with everything that had fallen on me, my uncle ended up with criminals, and everyone went about their business. How now to tear off my body from this chair and make it move at all, I could not imagine. So I would sit all day, realizing the terrible news, if a man with a mug in his hands had not approached me. I looked up and immediately saw a question mark on it.

— Do you know that shrimps have a heart in their heads? — suddenly he quite seriously said.

Sure. Work, Mr. Nigma, routine. Nothind, I just, chatted a few minutes with a maniac in the elevator. Something told me that he definitely wouldn't come to the appointment with the tour.

— Ugh...no. And you probably Mr. Nigma?

He nodded and extended his hand to me. I set the mug down, responding to the handshake.

— I'm Kim. So, I'll torment You today?

— Something like that, — The man nodded, smiling nervously. I hope not because of me.

I got up from my chair, finally driving away all thoughts of failed acquaintances and other nonsense from myself. Work, Kimberly, work. This is your priority. Mr. Nigma handed me a small folder as the first task — to parse the documents into those that are outdated from the point of view of the law, and those that need to be considered.

— In general, it's great, — I suddenly replied, takeing his table, so kindly provided for this morning. — I'm talking about shrimp. No one will reproach you for thinking with your heart, not your head. And you have a lot of this information?

I looked meaningfully at my "morning boss". He again stretched his lips in a smile — a modest but very sweet one — and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses.

— Yes. For example, Arabic numbers were actually invented in India.

I do not think that I remembered at least half of what he said while he worked in the laboratory. But it was all a soundtrack for me while I checked the documents. In the meantime, the hands of the hours approached twelve.

After finishing with the papers, I helped move some boxes to the archive. On this, my work, in fact, ended. Coming out of the archive, I ran into a girl, just amazingly similar to Nigma himself, equally modest and with identical glasses. I didn't dare to ask if they were relatives, I just apologized and closed the door behind me.

— May I ask you a question? — suddenly heard from behind the door.

I involuntarily came closer to hear better. The voice definitely belonged to a man. He was silent for a long time, and then he gave such a fantastic nonsense that I was ready to laugh in a voice:

— Do you know that home flies buzz the note of Fa?

And the tape "The most stupid flirt" gets this poor fellow. Or did he seriously want to know? I clamped my hand over my mouth and hurried away from the door so as not to give myself away. How then to explain it? "I was just there, propping up the door with my ear"? And yet, what courage, what audacity is needed to say such an incredible nonsense!

I walked briskly to the commissioner and by some miracle stumbled upon my uncle while he was reading some papers.

— You look pleased.

Found a clue — he looked up at me. — A gasoline car was stolen from the shipyard. We are trying to track it.

— Сool, — I responded with delight. — And you worried. I told you that everything will work out.

— I would be your carelessness, — he said with a sigh.

— Take it, I don't mind.

This, of course, was absolute rubbish. Imagine a person who has passed the army, with such a character and principles as my uncle, and having my devil's cares - it is simply impossible. Yes, these do not exist in nature.

— How is your work?

— Mr. Nigma — just a collection of the most useless facts in the history of mankind, — I said, as if leaving a review. — Did you know that a headless cockroach could live six hours?

— No, but thanks for the valuable information, — He grinned.

At that moment, when I was about to say something unintelligible and strange, one of the policemen run up the stairs.

— Received a call. The truck was saw — he called the address, and uncle instantly went out of table.

Everything happened so quickly that I did not even have time to figure out how to behave. I just watched as several policemen disappeared in the doorway and general commotion began. Yeah, I wish I could now pretend to be shrimp. Why did I even come here?

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, by the way, that my father works as a lawyer, and my mother is an assistant prosecutor. So, when there was a question about my future profession, nobody particularly asked my opinion. The fact that I will work in the law enforcement structure has already been decided for me a long time ago and seems to have been as a stigma on me. I stamped my foot and commanded that, if I studied law, it was only to become a lawyer. To me, this profession seemed completely unrelated to the police and judicial nonsense. And when it came time to practice for the sake of good recommendations for the institute, it turned out that everything was not so simple. By agreement, my father took me to him, but after a terrible and shameful story, which I will not be voicing now, I packed things up (and at the same time my pride and hope) and went to look for another practice.

— Kim, — from the mental flipping of the pages of the family album I was torn off the voice of the commissioner. — If you have finished your session of nirvana, then get busy. Find in the archive data on expenses and make a report.

— I'm on my way, — I responded, thinking that I wanted more work myself. So, all that is done is all for the best.

I decided that since the uncle is not here, it means he does not need a table yet, which means I can take it. I even noticed Stuart coming out of a side door, and waved to him with the most joyful smile. It's nice to know that at least one of my new acquaintances turned out to be adequate. Although ... oh well, hardly. The guy nodded and waved back.

The policemans returning from the call appears to be hired by Santa's assistants. And their gift was meant for Dr. Tompkins, in human growth and looked like a corpse. Something scared stirred inside me, but I could not ask who was taken to the department. First, because I risked getting off and starting the recount again, and, secondly, because the commissioner immediately intercepted my uncle. After they both disappeared behind the door of Leslie's lab.

Leslie. From me it sounds like something isn't very, is it?

No longer able to concentrate, I left the papers and waited until they were finished. In the end, my uncle was the only reliable source of information in the station. I didn't really know the others and didn't even try to ask them, fearing that they would only brush me off. No one wants to speak before an eighteen-year intern with hypertrophied curiosity.

First came the commissioner, looking at me not with the most pleased look. I put a hundred, she was already fed up that I put my nose everywhere. After a couple of moments, my uncle appeared.

— What happened? Everything is good? — I immediately snapped up, as soon as he closed the door.

— They tried to set fire to a bus with cheerleaders.

— Bus? — I was embarrassed. Lord, I also dreamed of being in a support group.

— We caught Dopkins, but someone killed him before he got to the car.

Suddenly, I noticed that my heart had missed a couple of nerve beats. What's wrong with me? Who was I so worried about? I mentally thanked uncle for the fact that amidst all this madness, he still finds time to explain to me what is happening. I do not want to sit in the corner and learn all the latest.

— Give it to the ballistics, let them try to calculate the weapon, — he handed me a bullet in a sealed bag, to which I just nodded.

Oh, okay. Our schizophrenic out of the game. What kind of terrorists are they, if on the second day practically nothing is left of them? Hmm, and if Dopkins was killed, so that he didn't say something extra — it means, that the person who pulled him out, everyone knows and this can notably spoil his reputation. Oh gods, yes such half Gotham!

Deciding not to play Sherlock, I walked toward the ballistic laboratory. I regret that I have no girlfriends here. As soon as I thought about it, I firmly set out to call Miranda in the evening and to have a great chat, eating ice cream.

Yeah, ice-cream is a good idea.


	5. Solo performance

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

Imagine Dragons

— Well, how? — I asked, leaning over the table, while Stewart looked at the bullet and in general did something incomprehensible.

— You are blocking the light, — he said calmly.

I straightened, then walked around the guy and stood behind him.

— British rifle, caliber 12.7 99, — he quickly wrote it down on paper. His handwriting, of course, was worse than that of the doctors. — They fired from a distance of approximately ... 60-70 meters.

He continued to write, and I continued to stand over, trying to understand how this can be determined at all with the help of a bullet. He finally finished and, pinning off his magnifying glasses, turned on the chair to me with a sly smile.

— The rest, so be it, tell you, if you agree to drink coffee with me.

Seriously? I smiled. On the one hand, I was about to spend the evening in the company of food and girl talk, but on the other, Stuart is a cutie and why not? It seems that the last time when I took the charm of a new acquaintance, it ended up being a maniac. Although comparing Stuart and Jamie-Jerome is the same as comparing Darth Vader and that small green monster. I agree, the example is so-so, but the essence is the same.

— Of course. Why not?

— So at lunch? — Stuart stood up, looking at me, probably his most friendly look. — And yet, tell the commissioner that I will report on ballistics a little later.

— Yeah, — I nodded, but when I was about to leave, I decided to clarify something: — Or maybe I'd better agree to eat pizza with you? And then I will soon have to start singing myself in order to drown out the serenades of dying whales in my stomach. You don't like it, believe me.

My heartburn began to pass and now I wanted to eat. I looked hopefully at Stewart, returning to papers and ballistic calculations. The guy just laughed silently.

— As you say, he shrugged. — I know a good pizzeria nearby.

There was something so warm and friendly about it. So much so that I almost forgot about all the hardships that I experienced this morning. So, inspired by this event, I flew back to my kingdom of unsubscribed calculations, to the cemetery of patience, normal vision, and any meaning.

It took really a lot of time to finish all the writing and more or less razgresti it into neat piles. Always, when I had to do something tedious, difficult and not pleasing to me, I thought only about what was waiting at the end. About food, about a warm bath, talking or about the bed - in different cases in different ways. Finally, the unfortunate reports were completed, and my hand seems to have turned into a swollen something from so many written numbers and letters.

In order to quickly get rid of these hellish torments, I very quickly dragged it all to the commissioner, so that she could see the level of my hard work. It all cost me blurry silhouettes due to eye strain and aversion to the writing process as such.

— For the future: you need to knock before entering, — said Essen calmly.

— Everything is ready, сommissioner.

And so it is not clear that my hands were a little busy? I clenched my teeth, swallowing a very bold answer, and just threw all the papers on the commissioner's table.

— Here it is. Everything is here.

She rose from her chair and ran her eyes over the papers. Commissioner Essen's expression became as if I had thrown her a mammoth head on the table: a little dumbfounded, but generally pleased.

— Did you manually rewrote all this? — I nodded. Commissioner took the topmost folder. — And for how many months?

— For two years — I replied with killed voice. She raised her eyebrows, looking up at me. And I almost pleadingly said in addition — Now can I go for lunch? Please.

— Yes, of course - Essen hastily nodded, returning to her throne. — I think you deserve it.

I deserved it according to the laws of the labor code, if that. Oh, from hunger, I get too aggressive. So I just nodded my thanks and left.

Stopping at the entrance to the commissioner's office, I began to seek out Mr. Lytle. By the time before lunch there was still about half an hour, so I needed to occupy myself with something, and I planned to return to the ballistic laboratory. But, fortunately (for Stuart), I stumbled upon an uncle.

— Stuart and I are going to the pizzeria, do you want to join us?

Yes, I still did not give up trying to get my uncle out of the abyss of his hopeless work. I know, I know that this is not the best moment, considering that these "Maniacs" are doing, but from ten minutes and a couple of pieces of pizza nothing will change. Or not?

— I can not, — he gazed somewhere in the direction of the table, which, apparently, personified his work. — Wait, with what Stewart? With that one of the ballistic department?

— Yeah, — I nodded, already heading towards the stairs. — We agreed to have dinner together. What's wrong?

— No, it is... — he bore me with a strange look for a couple of seconds, giving out at the same time joy for me and wariness for my further fate. — Well. Glad you already found friends.

To my great happiness, the moment that was supposed to end with edification from Uncle Jim, like, "Just don't do anything wrong, guys," well, or something like that, was spoiled by a phone call. My uncle immediately rushed to answer, picking up the phone, but before that he turned to me.

— Remember what we talked about. Gordon.

Then something in the general atmosphere cracked, and I almost heard the sound. Leaving my hopes to persuade my uncle to break away from the beloved work, I was about to leave, when suddenly his face became terribly tense, as if the call was from the other world. My uncle even took the phone away from his ear, as if he really couldn't understand if he heard a voice on the other side, or was it just a play of imagination. For a moment we crossed eyes, and I quietly asked, rather even to myself: "What happened?". But he said nothing and instead of answering me, he said into the phone:

— Hi, Barbara. How are you?

Inside, everything literally fell inside me, as if I was riding a roller coaster with wild speed. It can not be the same Barbara. How did she even have the audacity to call? But the unequivocal sight of uncle, who so successfully tries to keep his cool, spoke of the opposite. He spoke so calmly with the psychopathic that I was ready to pray for this calm, honestly. He just looked around nervously, making sure that everyone, as before, was busy with his business. I stood rooted to the spot, only trying to calm the accelerated pulse with internal assurance: "Everything is all right. It's ok. It will not work. Just a bluff."

— Listen, Barbara, I know you, I know. You are a good, good woman. This is all not you.

At the end there was such a laugh that even I heard him standing at the table. Here are just not understand what exactly she said. Apparently, something truly terrible, because even ideally unshakable uncle Jim suddenly raised his head and looked somewhere past me, towards the exit from the site. I turned around, and my eyes immediately came across a blonde in the corner of the arch. Damn it, she stood in the middle of all these policemen, in their red gloves and no one thought of paying attention?!

— Uncle? — I turned to him, feeling the tension in the air. Such that it could cut metal.

Then everything happened so quickly that I did not have time to understand anything except: "I will stay today without lunch, that's for sure." Because uncle jumped and rushed down, and Barbara away from the department.

— Stop! Wait! Uncle Jim!

I ran after him, but I got up in the middle of the department, realizing that I couldn't help but make it worse. Heck! What to do? Follow him? Tell the commissioner? Just lie on the floor here and wait until everything is resolved by itself? DAMN. Damn that day when I decided to move to Gotham!

Looking around nervously, looking for someone who would be as scared as I am now, I glanced at the door of Leslie's laboratory. I don't know what made me do it, but, in some sense, it probably saved my life. I pushed the door open and excited, completely unable to formulate thoughts properly, broke into Dr. Tompkin's laboratory.

— Leslie!

I stood in front of Dopkins's corpse. Such a pale and terrifying. At any other time, I would have staggered, felt nauseous, and would have left the lab as quickly as possible — I can't stand the sight of the dead, but not now. The brunette carefully looked at me.

— He...just ran after her! She called right to the department! I tried to stop him, honestly!

I choked with words, choked with them, like with something dry. Couldn't even decide where to start. The heartbeat did not even think to calm down, causing me to become more and more nervous and twitching.

— Come here. What happened?

— Jim, this...Barbara called him and then just...

I didn't have time to continue. There was a wild rumble, and after it incessant shots - one after another. And it was one of the most terrible moments in my life, which I certainly remembered for a long time. Leslie took a quick look at the door, and I felt her hands squeeze mine. Behind the door, silhouettes galloped, shouts were heard, which immediately drowned out the obscure noise and shots.

These were "Maniacs". There was no doubt. Looks like the worst nightmare you can ever see. Some steps and a shadow behind the door made me feel how much I was shaking. Leslie pushed me away, silently pointing at the stands against the wall. They stood along and it was possible to hide behind them only if the person entered did not go deep into the room. Trying to somehow establish order in my head, in order to understand what I generally do, I listened.

From the table where the corpse lay, hung a sheet that covered the body. Just a second before the door swung open, Leslie managed to dive under the table, hiding behind this sheet. At the same time, I pressed my back into the wall, pressing my knees to my chest so that they couldn't be seen.

I couldn't even see who entered, because I only looked at the face of Dr. Tompkins. Between us was about two or three meters, but I clearly saw her shaking. I saw her scared and pale face, saw her trembling hands as she raised her finger to her lips. I pressed both palms to my mouth and practically stopped breathing when the man stopped at the table with the corpse and there was an angry laugh. I shut my eyes tightly, so as not to let myself cry. These weren't such tears, when you are in despair or don't get what you want, there were tears of pain. Rather, fear — wild and uncontrollable.

Suddenly, the man turned around and left. His steps were lost somewhere in the roar of shots that began to subside. We sat like that for another minute or two, until I finally exhaled, probably very loudly and stretched my legs.

All I wanted now was to know that they were gone, and my uncle is all right. And the desire to find him suddenly turned out to be stronger than the fear that made me almost cry. God, there were so many people in the department...

Having found the strength to rise from the floor, I approached Dr. Tompkins, for some reason hoping that she knows what to do. But we both were equally scared and confused.

— I need to find my uncle, — I finally decided, throwing my hair back from my face and listening to the sounds outside. It was quiet there.

— Do not even think. I will not let you go.

— But, what if they just needed a panic, as well as with this people thrown off from the roof? We can not sit here, maybe someone needs help. Maybe they already left?

It was too bold a statement for a man who uttered him almost stammering.

— And if not? Please, stay here.

I don't know what played important role - my curiosity, the tendency to do, what I don't should do or the beginnings of schizophrenia, but I suddenly glanced past Leslie at the door and gave out "Just not him!". As Dr. Tompkins stood with her back to the entrance, she abruptly turned around, and at that moment I slipped under the table and rushed to the exit.

And I wish I stayed in the lab. A man was sitting on the floor near the door that led to the main hall of the department. I rushed to him, but before I knelt, I realized that it was too late. He didn't look like a corpse, wasn't pale, only the growing red stain on his shirt showed death. I didn't know him. I saw him, when they brought Dopkins, but no more. Did not know his name, did not know whether he has a family. Having swallowed a lump in my throat, I gently raised a pistol from the floor that lonely lay a few meters away from the man's hand. Damn bastards.

Only a little bit looking out from behind the arch, I made sure that they were still there. Several people in the form of policemen were strolling around the precinct with shotguns at the ready. But the worst thing was not this, but the people - the officers, just the duty officers, privates and employees of the departments. Someone was already dead, someone was close to it. So many people. I squeezed the gun harder, trying not to pay attention to how my hands were shaking. Lord, I do not even know how to shoot.

Almost crawling to the table to better see what was going on, I leaned out of my improvised shelter. Please tell me that my uncle is alive. And that all this is gonna be over now. I looked in the direction of exit from the station, there was on duty one of the loonies. Somewhere a shot rang out, apparently breaking off the suffering of some policeman, and I slipped to the floor and pressed my back into the desk drawers. What am I doing?

Grabbing at least some semblance of courage, I looked out again. And for some reason only now noticed Commissioner Essen. She was tied to a chair that stood on pushed tables right next to the entrance to her office. The tall figure of a man in uniform pulled off his jacket and threw him down, turning around. I shivered, suddenly feeling how a gun becomes heavy in my hand.

It was he. That same guy from the Galavan's office. Jerome Valeska.

Damn it.

He still looked as handsome as he had then, except that all this was completely interrupted by an insane expression. Here and now he was not constrained by the role of some Jamie, a nice, respectable guy. This psycho has gotten so far as to be himself — a man who slaughtered his mother.

— To rule the world, — I heard some snatches of conversation. — Bla-bla-bla. But so far we are satisfied with a bunch of dead cops and piar, — there was a short laugh. — Kidding.

Okay. The commissar is now all there, alone with these schizophrenics, and I'm here with a weapon. Just don't be such a coward, Kim! It was easy to say it to myself, but it was incredibly hard to do. My father was always brave, my uncle was always brave, but not me. I kept a weapon once or twice in my life.

Having only slightly raised and put the finger on the trigger. Damn hard. Unbearable. Inside it was like a volcanic eruption. At some point I thought about everything at once. Is Stuart alive? Will this psycho remember me if they see me? What happens if I kill him right now? Where is uncle? Why did I even come to this God-damned city? I did not have time to give answers, because a shot rang out. It took some time to understand what I did. Squeezed the trigger.

The man who was holding the camera, standing next to the ginger, screamed, his legs gave way and he crashed down from the table. Completely inadequate and wild laughter of the guy broke the silence after the shot. I missed. Shoot just below the knee. And then I dived to the table, realizing that I definitely couldn't go back to the laboratory.

— Who did this? — Through his incredibly frightening laughter asked redhead psycho. — Come on, guys, do not hesitate! I want to personally shake hand to the hero of the day.

I did not have time to decide whether to rejoice in me or not. Something cold leaned against the back of my head and there was a click. I opened my hands and dropped the gun, raising my palms.

— We've got a rat, — a voice behind was loud enough to break my hopes of going unnoticed.

Hardly coping with shaking knees and weak legs, I stood up, looking at the owner of the voice. Partially bald man, with a dragon tattoo on his neck. Good God, he has a shotgun in his hands, aimed at me...

— Long time no see! - I slowly turned around, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from this subhuman and transferring him to Valescu. - Wait, do not tell me...Kate, Kira...Кim!

Great, this asshole did recognize me. Can I count on pardon in honor of our acquaintance? Ginger continued to play the scene from the only him well-known play. Apparently, he has such a lifestyle — to constantly showing off.

— Frankly, I missed you, — he grinned, as if trying to prove the opposite, gestured to me, and the man behind pushed me in the back with a weapon.

At any other time, I would be outraged and expressed everything I think. But not now. Now I was just terribly scared. Slowly climbing the stairs, I glanced at the commissioner. If I could get at least a tenth of that outer calm with which Essen looked at us. I was ready to bow before her confidence and courage at that moment. As soon as I had time to distract myself, I crossed my eyes with the man I had shot at. I swear, never before in my life have I seen such a look. As if he were a mad dog without any moral principles. If the eyes are really a mirror of the soul, as they say, then this man simply does not have it.

It's very funny to look at maniacs, cannibals and rapists through the TV. Be in tension for two hours. To succumb to the terrible and strange charm of the villains, like Lecter, and then exhale and live peacefully on. But when you face them face to face it is different. I can say for sure — this isn't a damn fun.

The man I was shoot was Robert Greenwood. I recognized him by these very eyes. And, by the way, Valeska against his background did not look such a horrendous maniac. Everything else, the "first impression effect" still influenced me, and I could not believe that Jamie-Jerome could be really dangerous.

I managed to notice only the bloody stain on Greenwood's trouser leg, where the bullet hit, before his hand dug into my throat. It was like claws because of which you stop breathing in a second. I grabbed his wrist, but naturally, that didn't change anything.

— I'll cut you into pieces, little bitch, — the stench from the mouth of this scum struck in my face, I tried to break out, realizing that in a couple of seconds, I would lose touch with reality. Greenwood bared his teeth in a cruel smirk. — And now your uncle will not save you from what I will do before. Oh, you'll like it.

At first I felt that the hand on my throat had opened and began to greedily swallow the air, clearing my throat with such force that it seemed I would spit out my lungs now. I looked up to somehow get my bearings on what happened and saw the pistol at the back of the head of this unfinished Hannibal Lecter.

— Kim is our friend now. Do we offend friends, Greenwood? - Valeska portrayed a disgruntled face, although behind this theatrical bravado, which he constantly carried, it was possible to discern such a fierce desire to shoot anyone for insubordination.

— No — he said through clenched teeth.

— So take the camera and, — he lowered the gun and turned to me. — My friend, how to put it...have problems with women.

He himself thought it terribly witty and Jerome laughed again. Of course, he has a damn problem with women. He dismembered them and ate! I would faint right now if it were not for the loud voice of the commissioner, which made the redhead instantly shut up and turn to the source of the sound:

— Leave her alone, poor bastard.

Holy woman I have already mentally asked her forgiveness for being considered her a bitch.

— Oh, sorry old lady. It's impolite. We haven't finished yet.

— Yes, whatever, i get it. You just crazy.

— Crazy? — Then he jumped onto the table and stared at the commissioner, bowing his head. — Look at me. You can see I'm not crazy.

— Very soon little man, you'll be dead. And the world will go on without you. Nobody will even remember your name.

All the time, while the commissioner spoke (with such an iron, bless it, with confidence), the guy only grimaced, pretending as if listening diligently. He had his own opinion on this, including something about a virus and an imprint, and so on through the list. I no longer caught half the words, because my head was spinning.

Only Greenwood's voice pulled me out of this state: "Because there is nothing more contagious than laughter". And in the next second the Jerome calmly pulled out a pistol and fired at the man. He dropped the camera and fell back off the table. In the same way as before, only. without the opportunity to rise up.

— My line, — commented on the guy, turning around to face the commissioner. — There's nothing more contagious than laughter.

It was so unexpected that I again felt my heartbeat accelerate. I felt bad again, and I couldn't even look away, because I immediately ran across the corpses of the policemans.

And then commissioner Essen suddenly spat in his face, interrupting a new flash of laughter. Seriously. Just like that. And then I could not resist and stupidly laughed, clamping her mouth with her palms. While I was trying to shut up, the commissioner, in addition, had a good charge with her head in his nose so that he got blood.

I looked over my shoulder, wondering what would happen if I now tried to resist, but before I found the answer, scilence was broken by laughter. Worse than before. And now the guy no longer seemed to me to those whom I met in the office of Galavan. I understood so clearly that all this was a staged scene and that if I had known a maniac in him, he would have shot me without delay. Right there. If Greenwood was a typical cannibal who kills because of an abnormal thirst for blood, who always follows a certain plan, then Jerome doesn't. He was a complete psycho, which was impossible to understand, or predict his actions. Absolutely sick. With his interests, which vary with the speed of light.

— You've got me, — he threw a quick glance at the person behind me and nodded slightly, and then returned to Essen. — My turn.

Someone's hands firmly grabbed me from behind. One squeezed the waist, and the second, holding a rag. I struggled and scratched in my last strength, twisting my head, just to keep his palm from touching my face. My eyelids became heavy, and for as long as I did not try to keep them open, nothing happened. The last thing I remember before disconnecting is that commissioner Essen made no sound.


End file.
